Do You Know Me?
by Gadjo
Summary: Blair wonders if he still knows who he is.


**Do you know me?**

"Chief"

I freeze. The fish, the fire, everything is forgotten. That tone means only one thing- something's going on and he's not sure if it's good or bad. Slowly- EXTREMELY SLOWLY! - I move around the fire until I am standing next to him. Since I don't hear or see anything; he must be using his senses. I **so** do not want him to zone when I have no idea what's going on.

"There's a motorcycle, it just turned off the main road and is headed straight for us."

"What do you want to do?" Usually I'd try and tell him to relax; it could be somebody out joyriding or one of the camp officials delivering a message. After last week, I'm ready to forget the fish, and disappear until we know what's going on. Between us, we'd have no trouble making our way back to the park station, even avoiding the roads and paths. Sliding my free hand into my pocket, I feel my Swiss Army Knife, the granola bar I didn't eat at lunch, and the water purification tablets I've kept on me since we entered the park. Jim's gun is in the holster just below the hand I have pressed against his back; he must have put it on this morning out of habit. I can just see the outline of the cell phone in his pocket. And, I'm pretty sure he still has that freshly untangled length of fishing line in his pocket. We're all set for a nice hike through the woods.

I can hear the bike too now. Even though I know it must still be a ways away, I strain to see past the trees, bushes, and rocks to spot it. It's suddenly quiet. Glancing at Jim, he just concentrates into the woods. For a few hours- or sixty seconds to the rest of the universe- he just stares.

"It's okay. Just some guy trying to impress his buddy's with how far he can go before he has to turn back."

Fighting the urge to slap him for scaring me with his sudden speech when I'm already keyed up enough; I realize what he said and decide to forgive him. "Nice hobby." Slumping against him for a second, I tell my mind to stop planning escape routes and slowly go back to preparing the fish.

"You okay there, Chief?"

Glancing up as he sits across the fire from me, I watch as he sets his gun on the tree truck he's leaning against and tosses his phone into the tent. Even relaxed, I know he is still monitoring the motorcycle, which I can hear leaving, and monitoring everything around us as well.

"Just thinking." Setting the fish in the pan to cook, I lean against my tree and look back at him. "If this were five years ago, I'd never have heard that guy coming and, even if I had, I probably wouldn't have done anything but dig out an extra coffee cup. Now, one word from you and I'm cataloging whether or not we have enough supplies on us to hike back to the station or if we need to grab anything if we have to make a run for it. I carry water purification tablets around with me everywhere I go; I've had a pack in my pocket since we got here and I keep a bottle in my backpack even when we're in town. I used to hate guns. Now, while I'm not ready to join the NRA, when I'm not going with you to work, seeing you put it on in the morning goes a long way towards making me feel better." Reaching forward to flip over the fish, I just stare at the fire a moment. "When I was growing up I probably ate more meals off open fires than I did out of ovens. Naomi and I constantly traveled, ate most of our meals from communal pots, and religiously avoided cops unless picketing something." Meeting Jim's eyes, I let him see my confusion. "When did I change? Look at me! I ordered a yearlong subscription to Anthropology Today for the loft and three of my six speed-dials go to cops with another going to the emergency room at the hospital. What happened to me?" Automatically reaching out to flip the fish again, I close my eyes. "I don't know who I am anymore." Opening my eyes, I catch a glimpse of Jim's emotions before his eyes suddenly go blank. "Jim" Sitting forward, mindful of the fire between us, I lock onto his eyes. "The ONLY thing I know for sure is that I'm your Guide and partner. There is, and never will, be any question about that. What I don't know is" Seeing his eyes clear, and the fear they hid die, I try and explain what I mean. "When I was a kid, I was a runt-hippie-geek. When I went to college, I was the geeky-hippie-genius. When I met you I was a new-age-hippie-freak. What am I now?" Reaching out to quickly pull the pan from the fire, I set it down to cool for a minute. "I'm not even sure if I qualify as a geek anymore. How many geeks do you know that can get into a bullet proof vest without even blinking and have memorized the layouts of the police station, the hospital, and the courthouse."

"I don't think I know any geeks at all."

Looking up, and knowing by his eyes what he's saying, I nod. "See. I'm not a geek. So what am I? A 'neo-hippie, witchdoctor, punk'? A 'pig'-in-training? What?"

"Chief." I stop talking. "Maybe we should talk about it after we eat. Can't let your mighty spear hunting skills go to waste."

"Sure, Jim. We'll eat now and we can talk about my identity crisis later." Reaching for the plates, I stop when he suddenly grabs my hands.

"Chief, I don't see the problem." Leaning around the fire to hold onto me, he stares directly into my eyes. "You are my Guide, my partner, and my brother. At the university: you are a great student, a favorite teacher, and the guy who's dated more co-eds than anyone else in the schools history. At the station: you are the resident computer expert and paperwork wizard; Simon's, Joel's, and my only link to the youthful mind; the secret to Major Crimes rising case-closure rate; and the record department's favorite messenger. The rest of the time you are a great friend to Daryl, Simon, Joel, Henri, Rafe, Rhonda, Megan… should I go on or are you getting the picture?"

"I get it." As he sits back, still studying me, I dish out our dinner and eat a few bites in silence.

"Why are you worrying about this?"

"Just something I heard got me thinking about it."

"What did you hear?"

"Relax, Jim, it was no big deal." That got your attention, huh? "I just overheard some people wondering what I was doing with you guys at the hospital and it got me wondering. I'm not a cop; my consultant pass should have run out years ago. There is no real REASON any of you should still have anything to do with me. Okay," holding up my hands before he can say anything, I quickly change that. "YOU still have a reason to have me around and I can see Simon letting me hang around to help you. But, what about the rest of the guys? I'm younger, smaller, slower, and weaker than any of you even when you're hurt. All right, I see wanting me to stick around to help fill out the paperwork, but why all the rest." Stopping, I set down my plate having eaten barely half my food. Jim's plate is empty and he's already nursing his coffee but neither of us makes any move to get up.

"Why do you think we- they- keep you around?" Looking at me over the fire, I have this sudden image of an ancient Sentinel sitting with Guide outside the village, both intricately bound to the people they guard and yet inexhaustibly separated from them by their duties. As quickly as it comes, though, it vanishes and I'm left starring at heat distorted image of my partner. Blinking, I wonder if it was just my imagination or an actual vision. It could be vision, shamans are supposed to be prone to them but…

"BLAIR!" Jumping back, I look at Jim kneeling next to me, his hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay? One minute we're talking and suddenly you're starring over the fire at nothing. I thought only Sentinel's zoned, not Guides." Still looking at me, he sits down but keeps his hand on my shoulder.

"Sorry, man, guess I'm a little out of it." Reaching up to rub my stiff neck, Jim slowly- and way to suspiciously- walks backward until he's back on 'his' side of the fire. "Guess all this thinking's giving me a headache." Grinning to try and calm him down, he just stares at me.

"Chief…Blair" Locking his eyes onto mine, I know-even without adding the fact that he just used my first name- that this is important. "Do you ever regret joining me, us?"

Opening my mouth to deliver a resounding NO, I suddenly stop. "I, I don't know." Staring into the fire again, I answer honestly. "I guess, sometimes, I do. Not joining **you**. I'm your Guide and there is NOTHING that could make me want to change that. But, yea, sometimes, I guess, I wonder if I really belong with the rest of the guys at the station."

"Do you think they'd have accepted you if you didn't belong?"

"That's just it!" Looking up again, I stare at him as if an answer will magically appear in his eyes. "I don't know. I know that if you hadn't talked Simon into letting me ride along with you, he wouldn't have let me within ten feet of Major Crimes as anything but a suspect. Sure, Joel was nice to me right off, but only because he thinks I saved him from Kincaid."

"You did."

I know he believes that, but I also know that HE was the one who really saved us. But, since it's an old argument that always ends in a stalemate, I just skip it. "Anyway, Daryl likes me because we're sort of in the same boat when it comes to working with you and Simon. Rhonda, Rafe, and Henri: **them**, I have NO idea about. Sure, they know you, Simon, and Joel treat me like its okay for me to be there and they're not going to do anything to get on any of your bad-sides. But that doesn't explain why they're nice to me even when you three aren't around. Or, why Simon used to barely tolerate me sitting at your desk without you there to chaperone me and now he acts like I've done something wrong when I'm NOT at the station anytime you are. I don't understand." Closing my eyes, I fight to urge to rub my nose and see if maybe Simon's habit has some merit after all.


End file.
